Tòumíng woke up to sunlight streaming through his window, his phone alarm blaring some annoying default ringtone he'd never bothered to change. He slapped at the nightstand until his hand found the device, silencing it with a groan.
Work. He was supposed to go to work today.
He stared at the ceiling, his body still heavy with sleep, his mind already calculating. Yesterday he'd made one hundred ninety-five thousand yuan from a single crystal. He had fifty thousand in cash sitting literally arm's reach away on his bedside table. His Alipay account showed one hundred forty-five thousand yuan.
Did he really need to drag himself to the mine today?
The answer was obviously no.
But he couldn't just not show up. That would raise questions. Zhāng Wěi might get suspicious, might start wondering why his supposedly grief-stricken, loyal worker kept disappearing. Better to call in with an excuse.
Tòumíng grabbed his phone and scrolled through his recent mental notes. Yesterday, while at the mine, he'd caught a glimpse of Zhāng Wěi's phone number on some paperwork. His memory for numbers was decent when he actually paid attention, and he'd made a point to memorize it: 13073321925.
He typed it into his contacts, labeled it "Boss - Zhāng Wěi" and hit call.
Three rings. Four. Then a click and his boss's voice came through, already stressed.
"Wěi speaking."
Tòumíng took a deep breath, channeling yesterday's theatrical energy, and let his voice crack slightly. "Boss, it's Tòumíng."
"Tòumíng! Good morning! I was just about to check the schedule. Are you coming in today? We've got a full roster and I wanted to make sure—"
"The funeral." Tòumíng interrupted, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "It's today. My aunt's funeral. I have to... I have to pay my respects."
Silence on the other end. Complete, total silence for about three seconds.
Then Zhāng Wěi started bawling. Actually crying, loud enough that Tòumíng had to pull the phone away from his ear.
"Oh my god! Of course! Of course you can't come in! What kind of monster would I be to make you work on the day of your aunt's funeral?"
"Boss, I'm sorry, I know it's short notice and the schedule—"
"Don't you dare apologize! Family comes first! ALWAYS!" More sobbing. "Take the day off. No—no, that's not enough. Take the week! Take the WHOLE WEEK!"
"Boss, that's too much, I can manage—"
"I insist! As the best boss in the history of bosses and I am, everyone says so, my wife says so, my accountant says so, I can give you a well-deserved break. You've been through so much. Your aunt just passed away, may she rest in peace. You need time to grieve properly. Time to heal."
"That's really generous, but—"
"No buts! I'm your boss and I'm telling you—no, I'm ORDERING you—to take the week off. With pay! Because that's what the best boss would do. That's what a good man does."
Tòumíng could hear genuine emotion in his voice, tears and snot and overwhelming sentiment all mixed together.
"You're like a son to me, Tòumíng. You know that? A son. And a father doesn't let his son suffer alone. You take care of yourself. You honor your aunt's memory. You eat good food and get proper rest and you don't worry about the mine for one second, you hear me?"
"Boss, I—"
"Not another word! I won't hear it! The matter is settled!" Zhāng Wěi's voice broke completely, descending into incoherent sobbing. "Go... go be with family. Go... go mourn properly. As the best boss... the best boss in all of Shenzhen... I give you my blessing... son."
The last word came out as barely more than a whimper.
Then the line went dead.
Tòumíng pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it. A week off. With pay. From a funeral that wasn't happening for an aunt who'd never existed.
His acting skills were genuinely frightening.
"That man needs therapy," Cupid observed.
"He's projecting some serious daddy issues onto you."
"That man just gave me a week off with pay."
"By crying about your fake dead aunt."
"I see no problem with this arrangement."
Tòumíng tossed his phone back onto the nightstand and stretched, his joints popping, his body still sore from yesterday's mining but nowhere near as bad as it used to be. A whole week with no work. No crawling into tunnels. No breathing coal dust. No pretending to be a loyal employee while secretly compressing gemstones and smuggling them out.
Just a week to relax, spend money irresponsibly, and definitely not think about femboys or stolen bikes or numbers saved in his phone's photo gallery.
Definitely not.
He rolled over, pulled the blanket back over his head, and went back to sleep.
Because he could. Because he had a week off. Because life was good and his boss was emotionally unstable and everything was working out perfectly.